


The Old Place

by mattdamon



Series: No Death Guarenteed [1]
Category: True Grit (2010)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, John Wayne, Possibly some major character death in the future, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattdamon/pseuds/mattdamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice" Proverbs 24:17</p>
<p>Death is an interesting thing. You cannot control it, no matter how hard you try. It will never cooperate.<br/>{Eventual Mattie/LaBoeuf ;; Doctor Parmalee/OC ;; Rooster/A Bottle of Whiskey<br/>Part 1/? in a series}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for taking the time to read and enjoy this! I have been writing this in Math class for about a month now, and decided to post it! Haha! If you find any mistakes or have any suggestions, feel free to message me! Do people even read True Grit fanfiction anymore? Oh well, anyways! Feel free to comment praise or suggestions or whatever as long as its nice and constructive!

“That is silly, it is my store. Not his.”  
LaBoeuf eyed me, if only for a moment before he turned to glare at Rooster. The fat, old Marshall dropped some kindling into the fire. His good eye studied the ranger and me, mouth slightly open as if ready to comment on how I was prepared to feed him like a baby. He remained quiet, and for that I was thankful.  
“Eat, Mr. LaBoeuf.” I persisted once more, moving the spoon closer to his tightly closed lips. A moment of hesitation occurred before he moved to take the gooey corn dodger for consumption. I watched him, how he was careful to chew. This made me wonder if his tongue still hurt him any. If it did, he was wary not to show it. You could see easily that he was run down, the bags under his eyes were astounding. It reminded me of the large weekend bags my Aunt Petunia carried with her when she visited us from Georgia, stock full of handmade petticoats, pearl powder, and peppermints. I was tempted to ask if LaBoeuf had any of these things stored in his eye sockets, but it was a foolish question that would only aggravate him even more. Before I could prepare another mouthful for Mr. LaBoeuf, a gruff and slurred voice made an objection.  
“Stop doin’ that.” It was the Marshall, who had finally decided to say something about the feeding. A tinge of embarrassment fell upon me, but I did not cease. This caused an awkward silence that fell over our camp, and only the rain in the trees and the crackling fire could be heard.  
“Why are you being so foolish?” I asked, not wanting an answer, but just wanting to end the dreaded silence. Mr. Cogburn’s foolery did not make me angry, but it made my cheeks redden when I realized there wasn’t a reason I was feeding him. I felt sorry.  
“He’s a grown man, he can feed himself.”  
I felt Mr. LaBoeuf push away from me as if to separate the awkwardness between us. “I second that, though I appreciate the help, do not get me wrong by that, Mattie.”  
I nodded, pleased that he had relieved me of that duty. It was my own initiative but Marshall Cogburn made a fool of us. I moved back to my own pack, leaving the cup and dodgers near him. I felt small, a feeling I often possessed on this trip. I was fourteen of age, Rooster must have been in his fifties, maybe seventies. Mr. LaBoeuf’s age was something of a mystery to me. His features suggested he could have been in his mid thirties, but his way of speaking of himself suggested younger. The two older men, especially Reuben J. Cogburn looked upon me, not as a trail partner, but as a baby they were protecting. There were times when mid conversation, one man would say to the other, “Mattie’s virgin ears would not tolerate this kind of speech.” And it would be left at that. Never would I care, I was too busy thinking about my justice than worry over petty conversations the two had. I would have liked to think my ‘virgin ears’ could take quite a bit. Papa has had farmhands with tongues sharper than knives and the pride to match. Their tongues were as slippery as oil and Papa would have them back on the job hunt by supper if they said rude words around the children. I had learn quite a few profanities in my childhood, though I am not eager to share them.   
“Get some sleep, Mattie.” Mr. Cogburn said, laying himself on the cold ground that had only been covered by his wool blanket. It was not long after that before you could hear his whistling snores emitting into the cold winter’s night. It was always troubling to get to sleep. Rooster always made such a racket. His snoring was like a storm that shook the earth beneath me. After a while, it would fade away. I’d listen to the frogs and the crickets and Mr LaBoeuf’s mumbling. It was comforting. I put my head on my saddle, and listened until I drifted off into a rough slumber.  
\- -

When I woke up, Rooster was still sleeping, unlike the Texas Ranger, who was drinking from his canteen. My head was still fuzzy from sleep, so I did not bother to wish him good morning. He nodded his head towards me, as if he did not wish to say it either. But, we both meant it. We sat in silence for a long time. I felt foolish, the embarrassment had affected me too much. It was time for me to move on from it.   
“I have a feeling today we will meet our object.” I said, letting my pride show in my voice. We were so close. Cogburn was sure they were camping just on the other side of the creek.   
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mattie,” LaBoeuf said, keeping his voice low. “Sometimes things fall apart. We don’t know what is going to happen.”  
I was disappointed by his honesty. It had always been a thought in my mind that we would not succeed, but I was successful of keeping that thought in the back of it.  
“It sounds to me you are not confident in our pursuit.” I said, wiping an apple clean with my sleeve.  
“If you have been in this field for as long as I have, you would understand not everything pans out the way it ought to be.”   
I suppose he was right, but his negativity was not doing us any favors. It was around eight in the morning, when LaBoeuf finally shook Rooster awake. He arose without verbal protest. Something told me, he objected his rising. For his good eye shot both the texas ranger and I healthy and cold glares.   
“Never mind that,” LaBoeuf said to the matter, “Time’s a’ wastin’.”  
We abandoned our camp and traveled across the stream. The air was particularly nippy that day, I remember. I wrapped Papa’s jacket tightly around me and took the belt in a notch.   
There was a steep hill that we stopped in front of, and Cogburn suggested the Lucky Ned Pepper Gang were camping right up there. I noticed I was wearing a stupid grin. Tom Chaney, here I come, I thought wickedly.  
It was a wonder beyond me how Rooster was able to climb that hill with such determining vigor. He was drunk beyond belief. I questioned if he was as sure as he seemed. Judgement can easily be misplaced with the influence of alcohol.   
The ground was covered in wet, soft leaves, long dead since the Autumn. This made the quiet trek seemingly impossible. There would be no element of surprise that day. The hill began to even out quickly, as the trees became sparse. We paused a moment. There was no noise, except our heavy breathing, and a bird of prey near by. I felt my heart fall. Has this been a waste of time?  
“Shit.” I heard Rooster grumble, followed by a similar cuss from LaBoeuf.  
I have never seen the old Marshall move so fast. Ahead of us, there was a clearly and Rooster marched right for it. That was where he was expecting to catch the Lucky Ned Pepper Gang, but to no avail.  
“They left last night it seems.” Rooster said. “Probably heard Mr. LaBoeuf’s gibbering. That damn Texan can’t keep his mouth shut. This is the second time he interfered with a good plan of mine.”  
“Yes,” spat the Texan. “Blame me.”  
“They could probably smell your sheep shit from all the way up here. That gives them every reason to run, I suppose.” Rooster let out a cackle, but neither LaBoeuf nor I shared in his amusement.  
“Ever since I joined this manhunt, all I have been hearing against my name is slander.” said LaBoeuf. “I think it is time for me to make my own time elsewhere.”  
“Was that not our original agreement?” Rooster pulled out a cigarette.  
“I believe it was, and I am prepared to honor it.”  
“Fine then, the gang is gone anyhow. No sense in pursuing further.”  
This was not the first time we had nearly fell apart. A few days earlier, LaBoeuf had taken offense to something Cogburn said and left us to ourselves. We came upon him at the Original Greaser Bob’s cabin. That is where he was shot and nearly took his tongue in half. In a panic, I said, “Gentleman, please. We are so close to our goal, witch Chaney nearly in hand. The Lucky Ned Pepper Gang is only a night’s ride away.”  
“Mattie…” Laboeuf looked down, and I could tell then it might have been my ‘childish tendencies’ to urge further. “It is just not possible no more.”  
“Mr. LaBoeuf, there is a reward waiting back in Texas for you if you catch Chaney. How can you give up now after so many months work?”  
“Well, sometimes things are not meant to be. Some men are just easier than others.” To that Cogburn gave a hum in agreement. I was not nor am I now a lawman, but I could not let either man just brush away this mission like it was of no importance. Tom Chaney killed my father, and I was not about to let either man get away with giving up.   
“You are not leaving.”   
A beat occurred before LaBoeuf continued. “I’ve made my decis-”  
“No. Tom Chaney killed my father, and I will see him punished for what he did to my family.” This statement made LaBoeuf give a small shrug, an easily recognizable expression of guilt written on his face. I felt more frustrated than upset. How men are so easy to give up, perhaps law should be a woman’s job. Things would certainly get done quicker that way, without the trifling quarrels.  
“I’m sorry, Mattie.”  
“If neither of you will escort me, I will find them myself. I have a revolver and enough provisions to last me until then.”  
This grabbed their concern, certainly. Cogburn protested. “You couldn’t last two days without us.”  
“Even I could hardly last against the gang, you saw for yourself, how could you?” LaBoeuf asked.   
“That gives you all the more reason to stay,” I insisted. “Please, Mr. LaBoeuf. I need you to stay with me. Just like you said to me when we first met.”  
Now, I have said things that I have regretted many times, and in the moment, I felt the tinge of regret. I felt my cheeks redden slightly when I noticed Rooster giving us a baffled expression, but my head remained high. It felt silly to feel as embarrassed as I did.   
“We don’t even know where they would go next.” LaBoeuf looked at Rooster. “You know this gang better than I do, Cogburn. Where do you think they would have gone other than straight off the map?”  
“I suppose they went to the Old Place then.” I turned. Rooster pointed northeast. “His sister’s place, up that ways.”  
“His sister’s?” inquired the Texas Ranger.  
“Johanna Pepper, her name is. She runs the coop. Pretty girl, don’t go bitin’ LaBoeuf. She has her eye on one of the Parmalee brothers. The doctor, I think.”  
LaBoeuf stayed quiet, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. “To the Old Place then?”  
“To the Old Place.”


	2. Trail Blazin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They depart for the Old Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Sorry for the wait!! Here is chapter two!! Please, review, kudo, the full 9 yards!!!

At our departure from the former camp of Ned Pepper and his gang, our trip had been three days long. I thought of Mama often, as well as Little Frank and Victoria. Frank was old enough to understand that Papa had died, but too young to understand how. I asked Mr. LaBoeuf about his visit to the Ross estate during our journey to the Old Place.

“Your Mama is a strong woman,” he said through the pipe smoke. “She had tears in her eyes but held her head high. I see where you get your strength.”

This comment made me flush, and I nodded. “Little Frank must have been starstruck. It is not everyday that a real rodeo clown comes knocking at the door.”

“I can assure you, I was not wearing my buckskin when I visited your mother.”

“What were you wearing then?” I asked.

“A plain old court suit.” I cringed at the thought of him wearing anything other than his buckskin, brutal Mexican spurs, all his Texas trappings, and his obnoxious hat.

“I presume you combed your hair,” I said. “For the occasion of visiting a widow and her young children.”

“My hair is always combed,” He retorted, a big puff of tobacco smoke escaping his lips.

“It is hard to tell with that cowlick.”

“Well,” He leaned back against the bundled blanket tied on his saddle. “I wet my hair down before heading over. Cost me ten cents at the White Horse Boarding House in Dardanelle for a basin of water.”

“You did not wear a court suit or wet your hair down when you trespassed into my room monday morning, Mr. LaBoeuf,” I said this teasingly and LaBoeuf let out a small laugh. He smiled at me then. He had one of those smiles that made you want to smile as well. Though it was slightly off kilter and his teeth seemed a tad too large for his face, it was genuine. I found myself smiling right back before Rooster Cogburn interrupted our conversation with a loud snort. 

“Trespass into your room?” He exclaimed.

“Yes, the jingling of his spurs woke me up,” I said.

“Mrs. Floyd was hesitant to let me enter but with the assurance that I meant business and the gleam of a dime, I was granted entry with a smile,” Mr. Laboeuf’s voice was grave. “Thank the lord I am not one to take advantage. It seems like she would let anybody in if they could give her some sort of compensation. She likes to make a pretty penny in anyway she can.”

“As told by the price of the meals,” I added. “Twenty five cents for some water and flour made my coin purse a bit upset.”

“A basin of water was fifteen cents, and soap another ten. Now you see why I was so disheveled when I met you.” He shrugged and laughed at the stupidity of it all. I forgave him instantly. 

“What reaction were you trying to provoke when entering my room?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It seems silly to me now. I think I was trying to catch you off guard.”

I hummed. “Seems you succeeded then. I hate to admit but you gave me quite a fright. When a man enters a lady’s room when she is unaccompanied, it usually means they are going to take something from her.”

“As I said before, I am not one to take anything from a lady without asking first. I wouldn’t go touching a girl without her consent.” 

Rooster laughed at that comment and then I remembered the time next to the river. My behind hurt for a while after that. After a thorough inspection, I was surprised there weren’t any bruises. Papa’s trousers padded me very well. I guess it was my pride that got hurt most of all that day. 

“You might want to reconsider your stance, LaBoeuf.” said the Marshall.

“That was a silly mistake I made out of frustration. I do regret it, I’ll give you that. I sho-”

“You have already earned my forgiveness, Mr. LaBoeuf,” I said. My rump became sore just thinking about what had happened. I was ready to change the topic of conversation, though with that our conversing came to an end. We rode on in a comfortable silence.

That night, we took shelter under the trees. Rooster made a fire and LaBoeuf smoked his pipe. His jacket laid beside him and I was tempted to grab it. I was cold then. I wore my father’s jacket and I was covered in a blanket, but still I felt chilly. 

“Mr. LaBoeuf, I hope I am not bothering you,” I began, pondering if I should continue.

“Of course not, you just made my night better,” said LaBoeuf, a smirk lying underneath that mustache. I shook that comment off and ignored the smug look on his face.

“I am cold and I see you have discarded your jacket,” I hoped at this point this was enough for him to take the hint. I could tell he did, but just to spite me, he cocked his head. I was forced to continue. “I was wondering if I could borrow it.”

“What do I get in return?” 

“What do you mean by that?” I asked. I felt sorry I spoke up.

“I’ll trade you. You can wear my jacket for the night if you give me a kiss.” 

“Never mind then,” I leaned back against my saddle, tucking the blanket under my chin. I looked away from the ranger. I had enough of his Texas sense of humor for one day. The jacket fell beside me with a thud.

“I was joking,” I heard LaBoeuf grumble. I was glad Cogburn was performing his necessaries. He would have had a mouthful to say at that malarkey.   
Rooster appeared from behind the trees, grumbling and cussing as he did normally. It was no big surprise to see he had a bottle of whiskey in hand. He landed on the ground with a thump, which earned a laugh from Mr. LaBoeuf. I took the time then to pull the jacket on and hugged it tight around my waist.

“Cold there, baby sis?” I heard Rooster ask. I simply nodded. I have to admit I had never been so tired in my life. I once described this chase as being similar to a coon hunt. The only difference, I soon realized, was it was far more deadly. I have seen more killing in the past two days than any dime novel could offer me. First, it was Moon and Quincy. I had no regard for Quincy, as he was mean and drunk. He smelled of sweat and whiskey, he spoke roughly to his poor partner, Moon. Moon was a young man, not much younger than Mr. LaBoeuf, I’d reckon. He spoke softly and nervously. He seemed eager to give us information, as his leg gave him fits of pain that made him tremble. He needed a doctor and quick. It was an unfortunate turn of events when Quincy took Moon’s life. 

Quincy took Moon’s fingers clean off before embedding the knife deep into his chest. Rooster Cogburn responded by putting a bullet straight through Quincy’s skull. Not too long after that we watched Mr. LaBoeuf be dragged through the dirt with a shot up shoulder and a nearly bitten half through tongue. That night, Rooster and LaBoeuf lined up the four dead bodies against the cabin. The deceased men were Moon, Quincy, Coke Hayes, and Clemont Parmalee. 

Of course, I knew there was plenty of more violence to come. I was beginning to grow used to the sight of such gruesome wounds. The sight of Quincy’s brains running from his head and Moon’s fingers laying on the table like raw, bloody sausages made me hurl onto the White Avens bush outside the door. I nearly became sick from watching LaBoeuf tend to his own shoulder wound. The skin around the wound was bruised purple and yellow. The hold itself was bean shaped, pink and red torn flesh. Blood still oozed out but nothing like it was before. His shoulder blade shattered, and he lost use of his right arm. From watching his task of checking for infection, I became accustomed to such horrors. I never again grew faint from the sight of blood, even to this day. That is to say, I do not like looking at gunshot wounds in the first place.

“Let’s see your tongue,” said Rooster. 

“You’ve seen it plenty of times,” came LaBoeuf. Rooster loved looking at it, though I did not. It was vile to look at, plus it looked silly staring at the man’s tongue. Rooster mumbled something incoherent. I figured it was something rude, so neither I nor LaBoeuf gave it any thought. To my distaste, Rooster turned his attention towards me.

“I suppose we’ll make it to the Old Place tomorrow then, Sis,” The fat, old Marshall took a swig of liquor. “You’ll be back to Yell county before you can say ‘Theron Chelmsford’ or whatever the Jaybird says,”

“Theron Chelmsford,” confirmed LaBoeuf.

“What if they aren’t at the Old Place, Rooster? Then where do we look?” I asked.

“God only knows where they would be then.”

 

When I woke up from the rough night’s sleep, Rooster’s horse was already saddled and mounted by the Marshall. LaBoeuf was still in the process of saddling his horse.

“Morning, Baby sis,” called Rooster. LaBoeuf turned and bid his good morning as well.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said, as I gathered my new testament bible and tin cup. I put them in my saddlebag and rolled my blanket. It did not occur to me until i stood that I was still wearing Mr. LaBoeuf’s jacket. It hardly seemed proper that I had asked for it in the first place. 

“Thank you, Mr. LaBoeuf,” I said, quickly. I slipped out of the jacket and handed it to the man. “I apologize for ridding you of a fair source of warmth.”

“I judge you found some comfort in it then,” said the ranger, seriously. To that I did not answer, and saddled my horse.

We followed Cogburn for ten miles on horseback before he said we were only five miles away from Johanna Pepper’s cabin. During those ten miles, Cogburn told us about all we might expect. Johanna was the civil sort. She was tall and thin with long golden locks that fell down her shoulders. Her face was freckled and she had charming green eyes. 

“I thought I should describe her appearance, just in case LaBoeuf was interested,” laughed Marshall Cogburn.

“I could care less,” said LaBoeuf. “You told me Farrell Parmalee had his eyes on her anyway, Cogburn.”

“Oh yeah, I did. I think he is.”

Johanna’s cabin was given to her by a Choctaw man who had built it after the war. It was thought they were having an affair, but Johanna wasn’t the type to sleep with any man who comes her way. Rooster supposed that with dealing with the Parmalee brothers for so long, she must have grown standards. Farrell Parmalee was an exception, because he was the only one who had any sign of a brain. She always collected the money Ned gained and kept it in a safe in the kitchen. 

“How do you know all this?” asked LaBoeuf.

“Well, I’ve had supper over at her cabin. Sat down with her, Ned, and their cousin, Robert for beans and toast. Boy, that woman is quite the cook.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. I did not attend on Marshall business, I am a good friend of Johanna. Met her in Austin, Texas.”

“Why did you not kill Ned Pepper when you had the chance?” I asked.

“You don’t usually go slinging guns when you are sitting for a nice meal, Sis,” Rooster took a puff of his cigarette. “Now, there is a fair chance that might happen tonight -”

“You mean I will have to sit down for a meal with my father’s killer?”

“Yes. Johanna doesn’t like standoffs on her property. The only way we can get Chaney is if we negotiate.”

“And I suppose you think you’ll be doing the talking,” added LaBoeuf, dryly.

“That’s the plan. I will let Mattie do some of the talking, I suppose. But, LaBoeuf, you will not speak.”

“Why not? I cannot make a case for Bibbs and his bird dog?” 

“No one can understand you with that mangled tongue of yours,” Rooster said. “Secondly, everything you say is stupid. No one wants to listen to a confederate.”

“You ignorant son of a bitch.”

“Johanna won’t have this sort of debate at her dinner table, LaBoeuf.”

“Gentleman, please,” I said. “I cannot defend Mr. LaBoeuf on his support of the Confederacy. My father was a Union soldier himself. But, I do not see why Mr. LaBoeuf cannot make a case.”

“I suppose,” Rooster said. “If he is apted to make a fool of himself.”

“Why do you think so ill of me, Cogburn? I’ve done nothing to earn this sort of ridicule,” LaBoeuf said. We had this conversation so many times before. Cogburn would get LaBoeuf all upset and LaBoeuf would moan about it until I got a headache and couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Let us ride in silence until we reach our destination.”

 

The silence did not last long. 


	3. Before a Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at the Old Place and meet the Infamous Johanna Pepper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, things will start picking up from here on out.

We came upon the cabin not too much later. Rooster instructed us to stay in the foliage until he gave word.   
“Get off your horses,” He said. “When I say so walk your horses and tie them up yonder. I will enter first and make sure everything is all set.”  
With that said, he got off of his horse and headed towards the cabin. The door swung open.  
“Who is out there?” It was a woman, and I suspected it was Johanna Pepper.  
“Johanna, it is I! Rooster Cogburn!”  
“Rooster!” She exclaimed. I heard male voices from inside the cabin, protesting the Marshall’s entry. Johanna seemed very pleased to see Rooster on her doorstep.  
“Dinner is started, is there anybody with you?” She looked in our direction, and I hid my face but LaBoeuf only peered further.  
“Yes, a young lady and a Texas Ranger,” said the Marshall.  
“Well, bring them in. They are sure welcome,” She retreated back into her cabin while Cogburn went and tied up his horse. He nodded his head towards us.  
“I have a bad feeling,” LaBoeuf said, as we walked our horses to the wooden fence.  
“So do I. I do not like the thought of sharing a meal with the man who shot my father in cold blood.”  
“I feel your pain. I would not like to be in your shoes. Stay close to me though. I have a feeling I am the only adult here who cares for your safety tonight.”  
The door was left open for us by Rooster and LaBoeuf was first to enter. For a cabin in the woods, it wasn’t much different from my own home. The walls were lined with trellis wallpaper and photograph portraits of herself and a few old maids. There was a beautiful vase that caught my eye. It was creamy white and had delicate blue flowers painted on the body of it. The lines were intricate and so precise. I decided if I became at all flustered or nervous during the exchange, I would ask Johanna about the vase.   
As small as the cabin looked on the outside, I was surprised to find house spacious it was on the inside. Perhaps it was because she had little to no clutter. Every detail was perfectly placed to utilize what little space there was to the maximum potential. She had made room for a lovely dining room and that is where we found the gang smoking and playing cards. They talked amongst themselves and to Marshall Cogburn as well.   
“Gentleman, you know I do not like smoking in the house,” The head of the house, Johanna Pepper stood behind Rooster, scolding the men like children, She reached over and took a cigarette out of Ned Pepper’s mouth. “The smoke will turn my wallpaper yellow. The money will be coming out of your savings.”  
There was an uproar of groans and protests from the men and I smiled. I liked this woman already. She had the same rare gift I have. We both can put men in their place.  
She looked up at LaBoeuf and I as we stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Ah! Come, you two! Take a seat! I hope you like turkey. I shot a large one this morning.”  
“Hey, aren’t you that ranger we ran into at Greaser Bob’s?”   
The man who asked this had a scarred lip and eyes that were sunken in. This was Ned Pepper. Unlike his sister, he looked grey and unhealthy. He did not regard me, but stared at LaBoeuf.   
“I am,” said LaBoeuf. I could tell he was trying his best to keep from causing a scene.  
Johanna pulled up a seat for the two of us. For a woman who houses hardened criminals, she was rather friendly and welcoming.   
“Mister, I do not like weapons in the eating area. If you could please remove your trappings and discard them in that bucket over yonder.”  
I turned and indeed there was bucket full of guns, knives, and spurs in the northeast corner of the room.   
I held up my flour sack. “I have a Colt Dragoon Revolver. Shall I put this with the rest?”  
“You keep that, dear,” Johanna said. “In this house, women are the authority. I trust you have good judgement on when to use that. I can assure you, you will not be using it tonight.”  
“Yes, I do,” said I. I watched LaBoeuf take off his spurs and drop them on the overflowing bucket as the table continued their chatter. He leaned his Sharps Carbine against the wall and Johanna swiftly pick it up and say something to him, pointing to the door.   
“What’s a little thing like you doing out in Choctaw territory?” I turned to face a man wearing a bowler hat and a neatly trimmed mustache. He was rather well kept and had a friendly smile. This man I learned was Farrell Parmalee.   
“I came to avenge the death of my father. I hired Rooster Cogburn to go after the man. His name is Tom Chaney.”  
“Tom? Hear that Harold? Tom killed this girl’s father!”  
Harold Parmalee was slow in the brain, and only communicated by making various animal noises. His brother and the gang treated him kindly though.   
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”  
“Is he here? Tom Chaney?” I asked.  
“He’s preparing dinner,” Johanna said, quietly. “I suppose you will be wanting to take him back to Fort Smith then.”  
“That is the plan. That ranger has been on his trail for months. Chaney, according to LaBoeuf, killed a Texas Senator and his bird dog while they were on their porch swing. He was using the name Darren… Darren something or other.”  
LaBoeuf sat back down next to me. “Theron Chelmsford. Bibbs’ family put it that the old man was sitting on his porch swing with the dog. Chelmsford came into the yard, looking for work and the dog started to bark, as dogs do. Chelmsford shot the dog. Bibbs protested and went about yelling and Chelmsford shot him. Mrs Bibbs came running out and saw the black mark on his cheek as he went running.”  
“Tom is a nervous man,” said Ned. “Johanna, go get Tom.”  
Johanna nodded and disappeared behind the white door behind Ned.  
“Tom Chaney killed my father after he helped him. We gave him food, shelter, and work. And he repaid us by killing Papa and leaving a poor widow with three young children.”  
“Do you trust the men riding with you?” Asked Farrell.  
“Marshall Cogburn and Mr. LaBoeuf? Of course. We had a shaky beginning, I must admit. But, they have earned my trust, respect, and admiration.”  
One of the men said something I did not catch. LaBoeuf heard it though, and he spat, “Watch your mouth.”   
“Hold your tongue, LaBoeuf.”  
“You are very vulnerable. That ranger is young, and as I know he is a bit dimwitted,” Ned began, looking coldly at LaBoeuf.   
“I know what you are insinuating and he would not dare. He is honorable. I trust him far more than any man left on Earth,” I said. I saw the ghost of a smile upon LaBoeuf’s lips. This was a slight exaggeration though. Though, I did trust him far more than most people, I still trusted my lawyer, James Noble Daggett far more.   
“Well, then. How about Rooster?”  
“I do trust the Marshall. At least when he is sober,” This comment aroused an uproar in laughter, and even Marshall Cogburn joined in.  
The white door opened behind Ned and out stepped Johanna. My heart felt like it was climbing up my throat. My palms were sweating and I found myself wiping them anxiously on my trousers. A man stepped out behind her. It was Tom Chaney. Our eyes fell upon each other. I must admit, that I wanted to drop a few profanities in his direction. I held my tongue and swallowed hard.  
“Why, it’s Little Mattie. Little Mattie, the Book Keeper,” said, Chaney. He wore the same nervous grin he wore the day he met me. “Isn’t that something?”  
I nodded and said, “Yes, it is I. We have been on your trail for quite some time now, Tom.”  
“Why is that?”  
“Well,” I scoffed. “You know why. You murdered my father in cold blood.”  
“It was a mistake. I got scared. I was drunk.”  
“I am here with two lawman. This is Rooster Cogburn, a Federal Marshall under Judge Parker’s Court,” I pointed to the Marshall, who was studying him closely. “And this is the Texas Ranger LaBoeuf, who has been after you for a few months now.”  
“If you recall, Mr. Chaney,” LaBoeuf leaned back in his chair, thumbs tucked in his waistband. “You murdered Senator Bibbs down in Waco.”  
“That’s a damn lie,” Chaney said, seating himself next to Ned. “Mattie’s father is the only man I ever killed, and that was the drinking that done it-”  
“You will address me as Miss Ross. I will not have trash like you calling me by my Christian name.”   
“Miss Ross’s father is the only man I killed, I swear on my Mother’s eternal soul,” he pleaded.   
“You were using the name of Theron Chelmsford at the time,” Rooster said.   
“I know no such thing,” said Tom. He shifted in his chair and avoided any eye contact, I noticed. Johanna came and poured him some whiskey. A mistake, I thought. It was best to let that man drink only water. He thanked her and took a gulp. His face twisted but smiled all the same.   
“Strong whiskey?” Farrell chuckled.  
“A Choctaw gave the bottle to me, said he traded it for an old rifle. It’s Tennessee whiskey.”  
“Who’s the distiller?” Asked Tom.  
“Jack Daniels? It’s 90 proof, it says. Old No. 7.” Johanna passed Tom the caramel colored bottle and he studied it. He hummed and set it down not a moment after.  
“Why do you let that man drink?” I asked. I was about ready to take that drink away from him. We all knew what happened when that man drank.   
“I love a little girl with opinions,” Johanna looked at me like a mother would a child. I frowned, not feeling at ease with her sudden tenderness. “Oh, Farrell. Why don’t we just get married and have children?”  
“Well, I didn’t think you would want to marry me,” he replied. He took his hat off and hung it on the back of the oak chair he was seated on.   
And so, Johanna and Farrell carried on talking marriage and children. The rest of us sat and twiddled our thumbs. Chaney found a moment to escape back to the kitchen to continue our supper. Rooster had joined the card game. LaBoeuf sat silently beside me, lost in his own thoughts I suppose.   
“This is going well,” he said, quietly. I looked at him and shrugged.  
“I do not feel comfortable with Tom Chaney cooking my supper. For all we know, he could be slipping arsenic into our soup.”  
“I wish Cogburn wasn’t as nonchalant about this whole ordeal as he is. Look at him,” he cocked his head towards the Marshall and I leaned forward to oblige him. The Marshall seemed to be enjoying the company. I always figured he was the social sort.   
“Perhaps, this is just an act to keep Johanna Pepper’s respect,” I wondered.   
“Why should he care about her respect? She houses hardened criminals and keeps their winnings for them. She should be hanged if you ask me.”  
“She houses many people, not just criminals,” Rooster said, hearing our conversation. “She gives anybody who needs it shelter for the night.”  
“That’s right,” confirmed Johanna. LaBoeuf lowered his head. “I’ve had pastors, traveling families, runaway brides, and the occasional cattle thief.”  
LaBoeuf only nodded his head. I knew he wanted to point his fingers and say something about her brother, but with the cold glares Rooster was shooting at him, I understood why he kept his mouth shut.  
“Now, if you have nothing left to say, Ranger, let’s eat!”

**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell, I had a hard time finishing this chapter, but hopefully it'll move a bit more smoothly as time wears on. Anyways, I am looking for someone to help me with this story. Perhaps helping me add details, word choice, grammar, etc. If you are interested, please feel free to contact me! <3


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